


Karma Suture

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: It's a late night at Holby City, when Raf gets some unexpected patients.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt on Tumblr and couldn't resist:
> 
> i saw a font at school called “karma suture” now I need a fic with that title  
>  come on guys  
>  don’t fail me now
> 
> Someone PLEASE write this Berena fic

“Oh god...”

“Good?”

“Mmmmm, yes. _So_ good.”

“Just let me...”

“Fuck! That...that's it...”

“You're so bloody gorgeous.”

“Don't stop...please...I...”

“Wait, Serena, my hand...”

A loud crash echoed through the darkened room, followed by a series of thumps and the sound of breaking glass.

“...fuck.”

***

Raf ran a hand though his tousled hair with a sigh as he crossed the ward. He had just gotten out of surgery, repairing the ruptured spleen of a young man who had been brought in as part of an RTC hours earlier. Fortunately that had been the only real excitement of the night. He flopped down in front of the computer at the nurses' station, eyeing the stack of incomplete paperwork beside it. One of the perks of working overnights was having the peace and quiet to catch up on things. He just wasn't sure he was desperate enough to dig into the mind-numbing hospital minutia just yet.

The desk phone rang (beige, not red, thank god) and he answered it quickly. “AAU.”

“Raf?” He was surprised to hear the husky voice of one Serena Campbell. Frowning, his eyes flicked to the clock. 2:57am.

“Serena? What's wrong? Can't sleep and felt you had to check up on me?”

“No, no, of course not. It's just...well.” A long pause. He could vaguely make out someone else speaking in the background. “Can you go to my office? When you have a chance, of course.”

He spun around in the chair, frown deepening. The consultants office was dark, doors closed and blinds pulled, just as it had been all night.

“D'ye need me to check something for you?”

“Not, ah, not exactly. Just...just get in there. Oh, and try not to let anyone see you, alright?” The phone disconnected abruptly.

Raf crossed his arms, studying the darkened office. If he didn't know any better, he would think this was an elaborate wind-up. But from Serena? This was much more Fletch's style. He glanced around the ward; the night nurses had started their 3am obs, keeping everyone but himself occupied. Too curious to do anything else, Raf pushed himself out of the chair and casually walked toward the office.

The door was unlocked, which was unusual, but the interior was pitch dark as he peered inside.

“Come in and close the door, would you?”

He jumped, startled. “Serena?!” She was here? What the hell...?

“Yes, Raf. Quick if you please.” Raf finally processed her words, stepping fully into the office and shutting the door behind him. The desk lamp switched on, the dim light causing him to blink for a few moments before he could focus on the scene before him.

Serena sat behind her desk, as if it were any other shift. Except... He looked closer, taking in the mussed hair, sticking up in all directions around her head, and what looked like a wicked bruise blossoming high on her cheek. She was wearing her grey Holby City hoodie, but only had one arm through the sleeve. The left was zipped up inside the hoodie, tight against her body. Across from her, eyes glued to her (mismatched) trainers, sat Bernie Wolfe, a bloody kitchen towel clutched to her forehead.

Raf opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. “I...um...what happened?”

“That doesn't particularly matter. Suffice it to say Bernie needs stitches for that cut, which I would normally take care of myself. However, I seem to have, ah, potentially dislocated my shoulder.”

Raf could feel his eyebrows trying to climb entirely off his forehead and tried to school his features into a more neutral expression. “Right. Well, let's get you both checked in. We...”

“NO!” He jumped back a little at the simultaneous shouts. The women's eyes met briefly, Bernie quickly returning her gaze to the floor. Serena turned back to Raf, her expression the one she would often use when cajoling recalcitrant patients that she considered to be particularly stupid.

“There's no need for that Raf. Why don't you just get what you need and we can take care of it in here.” Her gaze turned steely. “Off the record.”

“What? But we really...” Serena raised an eyebrow and the words died in his throat. Raf had worked with Serena Campbell for a long time. While she was often surprisingly lenient with her staff, he had quickly learned how to tell where the hard lines were. Clearly his toes were at the line now.

“Right. Right. I'll just get some supplies and be, um, back.” He smiled wanly and rushed out of the office.

 

***

 

The laceration above Bernie's eyebrow wasn't very long, but deep enough that her fringe and curls along the left side of her face were matted with blood. Raf tied off the stitches quickly and neatly after verifying there was no concussion. He handed her some alcohol wipes to help clean up her face before turning to Serena, currently taking deep breaths from a mobile Entonox unit.

“Right, let's see what we have.” Serena hesitated, and Raf was startled to see a deep blush staining her face and neck. She glanced at Bernie, sighed, then began to unzip her hoodie. Raf averted his eyes, suddenly deeply interested in the texture of the ceiling tiles once he realized that Serena was in fact wearing _only_ her Holby hoodie. There was scuffle of limbs and the whisper of fabric, punctuated by a hiss of pain.

“It's safe to look now, Raf.” Serena's voice was dry enough to suck the moisture from the air.

Raf gave it another moment, just to be sure, then moved to assess his patient. Bernie had clearly helped Serena arrange herself, the hoodie re-zipped to grant access to her arm while covering most of her bare torso.

Raf moved his hands over the joint, verifying the alignment. “I'd say it's definitely dislocated. The ligaments feel intact, but you really should have an MRI to be sure.” He quailed under Serena's gaze. “Alright, alright. There is some bruising here that...” He leaned close, focusing the light to reveal that what he had taken for injury-related bruising was, in fact, a clear set of teeth marks just above Serena's clavicle.

“I'll remind you, Mr. Di Lucca, that not only is it within my power to end your career in medicine, but Bernie could actually have you killed.”

Raf looked between them both, eyes wide. “Ah. Right. We, ah, we should get that shoulder set then.” He turned to Bernie, her face cleaner but still lightly pink-stained around the edges. “Can I get some help?”

Bernie moved across to hold Serena steady against the chair. Their fingers intertwined, heads leaned close and Raf suddenly felt like he was intruding. He gripped Serena's wrist, adjusting the angle of the arm. “Alright, Serena? On the count of three. One, two, three!” A sharp tug and Serena cried out in pain before sighing in relief. Bernie pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering softly, as Raf turned away to repack the equipment.

When he turned back they had separated, though the fingers of Serena's good hand were still intertwined with Bernie's. “I grabbed a sample pack of hydrocodone, that should get you through tomorrow. After that you should be able to survive on paracetamol. If you're still in serious pain we're going to have to get you in for a scan.”

“I understand, Raf.” Serena smiled, her face still lined with pain. “And thank you for this. I, _we_ , very much appreciate your discretion.” Her eyes locked with his and Raf chuckled.

“Which is code for 'if you tell Fletch about this, you're dead.' Got it.” Raf scooped an armload of supplies off the desk and moved to the door. “Oh and make sure to rest that arm. You need to avoid any, ah, _strenuous_ activities.” He waggled his eyebrows and Serena couldn't help but laugh.

“Get out, Raf.”

“Aye aye, ma'am. Major.” He tossed off a jaunty salute and slipped out the door.

 

***

 

“Do you think he'll tell anyone?”

“Raf?” Serena leaned back in the chair, eyes closed as Bernie helped her into a sling. “Not if he knows what's good for him. Besides, he's kept bigger secrets than this for me over the years.”

Bernie finished adjusting the slide on the sling encasing Serena's injured arm, making sure it laid flat before zipping the hoodie up over it. She dropped a kiss on Serena's fingertips where they protruded from the opening.

“Serena, I'm so sorry.”

Serena lifted her head from the back of the chair, her eyes a little glassy and unfocused from the painkillers. “For what? It was my idea. And, as I recall, up until the accident things were going very, _very_ well.” Her smile turned into a vaguely lopsided leer, drawing a chuckle and an exasperated huff from Bernie.

“I just didn't want you to think I meant for this to happen. I truly thought I could do it.”

Serena smiled softly, reaching out with her good hand to cup Bernie's chin. “I would never think that. We both may have overestimated your strength, however.” Her words trailed off into a wide yawn.

“Come on.” Bernie reached to help Serena up out of the chair. “Let's get you back to bed.”

Serena rose, pressing Bernie back against the edge of the desk, lips close to her ear. “Isn't that what got us here in the first place?”

“You're impossible,” Bernie grumbled, but Serena could see the beginnings of a smile quirk the edge of her mouth.

Serena slung her good arm loosely around the back of Bernie's neck. “Yep. But you love me.”

Bernie tried to stay stern, but even she was weak when faced with the adorableness of a very high Serena Campbell. She chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Serena's lips.

“Yes I do, you ridiculous woman. But, in the future, let's leave the _Kama Sutra_ to the young, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

 


End file.
